


Sweet Dreams, Potter

by SoftObsidian74



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Community: hp_kinkfest, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Forced Voyeurism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Prisoner of War, Sleep Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’ve always wanted to shag Ginny Weasley, but even more than that, I’ve always wanted to destroy Harry Potter. Finally, I have the opportunity to do both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams, Potter

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Ultrasonicbop
> 
> [ ](http://s289.photobucket.com/user/SoftObsidian74/media/softobsidian74.jpg.html)

The manor is finally quiet. It’s one in the morning and the only sound I hear is the ticking of the grandfather clock just outside my bedroom. Dressed in green silk pyjamas, with my wand in hand, I proceed to silently tiptoe out into the hallway.

I can feel my heart racing in my chest. If I were less cultured, I’d probably do a cartwheel right now. Suffice it to say, I am very excited. 

I’m about to fuck Ginny Weasley, and not because I fancy her. Oh, all right, I do fancy the little Weaslette, but that’s only part of it. There’s another reason compelling me to do this: my hate. 

There are no truer words than these: I absolutely hate Harry Potter. 

And shagging Ginny Weasley into the dungeon floor while she lies unconscious is the perfect way to show him just how much. Not only will I satisfy my prick’s one true desire without the usual fuss that comes with taking a woman against her will, but more importantly, I’ll have the pleasure of crushing Potter’s spirit while doing it. 

As much as it pains me to admit, I owe this opportunity to a despicable excuse for a man.

The evening’s festivities ended early after Macnair went mental, raping that poor half-blood grocer’s daughter with his wand. The bloody brute jammed it too far up her twat while casting a non-stop wave of stinging hexes. What a barbarian that one is. He was only supposed to make her scream. The Dark Lord loves to hear them scream. Personally, being a respectable pure-blood with more refined tastes, I despise the screaming. I hate all of the tears and pleading that comes with it as well. It grates on my nerves like owl claws against a window. Just listening to it makes me feel common and dirty. It takes days to wash away that sort of filth. I’ve taken many extended baths since the Dark Lord conquered Harry Potter nearly a year ago. 

In the end, the grocer’s daughter just couldn’t take the abuse. In a fit of convulsions, she impaled herself upon Macnair’s wand. It was a bloody awful sight to witness and such a waste. Squib or not, she was rather pretty. 

I suppose her death was inevitable, and for me, a stroke of luck. Now the manor lies still, and I can make a fantasy come to life. There are rules about messing with the prisoners. You can’t just go nosing about down in the dungeon, taking what you want. They all belong to him. He castrated the last poor sod that tried to have his way with Granger. Permission must be granted first, and it is rarely given. 

He’d probably give it to me, though. I think. I’m one of his favourites now. He gives me more leniency than the others because I do things no one else will. Terrible things that I dare not mention or think of when I’m alone. But I’ve proven myself to be strong and better than the rest, making up for my past shortcomings. He appreciates me now for my show of commitment. It’s all one big show, after all, and everyone must play their part. 

Still, I’m sure he would request that I take her in front of him or even the others, and the mere thought of such a scene sickens me. And there is the slim chance he would deny my request. It’s best not to tempt fate and ask. I’ll just take.

I have to be careful. I don’t want any interruptions or to provoke any unnecessary violence. I despise violence. If I do this properly I’ll be able to avoid it completely and perhaps even enjoy her until the dawn breaks. It’s enough to make my mouth water like a starving man in front of a Hogwarts buffet—perhaps that is why my hands are so sweaty right now. 

It’s absolutely crucial that I remain silent. Sneaking about never was a problem for me. I’m very good at it, but I really do hate having to tiptoe around like a ninny schoolboy. Sometimes, honestly, I wish that noseless tyrant would just die. 

Bugger! Someone’s coming! I heard a creak from behind me. 

Freeze.

My stomach curls in dread as I wait for someone to ask me what I am doing, walking about in the dark. I turn to look behind myself. 

Tick-tock. 

Tick-tock.

There’s nothing but darkness, and the ticking of the clock. No one’s there. 

Sighing a quiet breath in relief, I walk on.

This is such bullshit! No one should have to sneak about in their own bloody home. I’m not scared; I’m just being cautious. The snake king is so sensitive. He’d probably think I was being arrogant for not asking permission. After Potter challenged him and failed, he gets so touchy about disobeying his rules. It’s all well and good, though; better to serve under him than have to kiss the arse of some fake saviour. I’m glad Potter lost. Serves him right for thinking he was so damned special. 

Ah, finally! I’ve managed to walk all the way down the hall without making the slightest sound, and that’s no small feat considering the long and creaky corridors of our estate. 

I am quite gifted.

So here I stand, at the top of the stairway that leads down to the dungeon. The blackness down there is much denser than it is in the rest of the Manor. Everything is always darker down there.

Bollocks. 

Why does she have to be down there? I hate our dungeon. Father has always been proud of it, but I don’t think it’s anything worth boasting about; it’s creepy. When I was a little boy, my aunt used to tell me there were monsters down there, waiting to eat me. 

I’m being silly. Everyone is asleep, even the red-eyed monster, who hardly ever sleeps. And this is my home; I know every inch of it. There is nothing down there that can hurt me. I’ve come too far to turn back now. I will not let the darkness or the memory of my childhood nightmares thwart my plans. Besides, my aunt is a fucking liar, and a barmy one at that. 

The only real thing down there waiting for me is pretty enough to brighten even the darkest of rooms. Actually, pretty is an understatement. Ginny Weasley’s beauty is rather remarkable; she’s almost as beautiful as Mother. And that really is saying something.

I can do this. All I need to do is just take one step at a time. 

Just breathe in and will your feet to move. 

There. One step down, fifty-two to go. 

Exhale. I’ll keep my thoughts on pleasant things as I descend. 

I’m not just taken with the Weaslette’s looks. It’s more than that, really. It’s her. I’ve always kept my distance, but I’ve never stopped watching. I’m not obsessed or anything like that, and I certainly don’t love her. My breeding won’t allow it. She’s a Blood Traitor, and even worse, a Weasley.

There have always been rules about mixing with unsavoury types. Father says a proper pure-blood should never even think of touching a Blood Traitor or Mudblood. And I swear, on my life, I will never touch a Mudblood. 

But a Blood Traitor? I really don’t see the real harm in that. They’re just as pure as we are, diminished only by their misguided beliefs and silly compassion. 

Blood Traitor or not, Ginny Weasley stands head and shoulders above all the other birds. She moves and talks like she doesn’t know she was born poor or cursed to be raised with a traitorous family name. 

Sometimes the thought of her in that family makes me quite sad. What were the odds? The Gods must have had a laugh the day they made her. To be cursed with so much beauty and then born into squalor, surrounded by a bunch of uncouth and gangly red-headed brothers who can’t spell their way out of a closet, let alone a battle—it’s tragic, really.

She’s better than that, better than them. That was clear from the very first day she arrived at Hogwarts. She walked the hallways with the confidence of a seventh-year, and the way she used to ride a broom, racing through the air like she owned the sky… 

Mmmm. 

Even now, in captivity, she holds her head high and hardly ever cries. At least not in front of me. I love how she looks at me. It excites me. Whenever I come around to feed her, she always gives me her most fiery glare, flaunting that foolish Gryffindor pride as if it were a coat of armour. It’s damned sexy. I only wish she were chained up to my bed instead of the stocks of the dungeon. 

After tonight though, it won’t matter. I intend to make her mine. Right in front of her pathetic so-called boyfriend. Just the thought of it is making my prick hard. 

I’ve been thinking about how I would do it for many months now, but the timing has always been off. There’s always someone hanging around them. Ever since that silly attempt to escape, they’ve been kept under close watch. Their brash and foolish plan failed miserably. They were outnumbered and out-skilled. The Weasel was beheaded, and that crazy coot, Loony Lovegood was Crucio’d into insanity. Not that that was hard to do. Potter, Ginny, and Granger managed to survive to become the Dark Lord’s favourite pets. His orders are to make sure they are fed, kept moderately clean, and bound in the dungeons. Not because he cares, of course. He just wants to prolong their pitiful lives for extended torture. 

They mostly fuck with Granger. Being a know-it-all Mudblood makes her an easy target. She never learns, the stubborn little bitch. Although the last time I saw her, the light in her eyes had dimmed considerably. 

They leave Potter alone, for the most part. As for Ginny, thanks to me, they no longer bother her. When she first arrived, they tried to have their way with her, but the Dark Lord put an end to it at my request. 

Ginny has yet to repay my kindness or show any appreciation for the sacrifices I’ve made for her. I think I treat her pretty well. I don’t torture her. I just like to touch every now and then. Nothing particularly intrusive or vulgar. I’m a gentleman, after all. She hates it all the same, and it never lasts for very long. Someone’s always interrupting us. If only he would gift her to me. I dare not ask, though.

The only real pleasure I get from our brief time together is the reaction from Potter. Whenever I’m near his little girlfriend and he happens to be conscious, he glares daggers at me. It’s hilarious! He gives me such hateful looks, like he wants to kill me or something. As if he ever could. He stays chained up naked like a sex slave ought to be. The Boy Who Lost is the Dark Lord’s favourite fucktoy now. Every time he glares at me, I can’t help but laugh. 

There, finally—I’ve reached the bottom of the stairs without making a sound. I’m so damned good.

It’s very dark, as expected. With only the light of a weak Lumos from my wand to guide my movement, I walk with stealth, looking for them. The glow casts an elongated shadow of the wrought iron bars against the stonewalls. I lower my wand to peer into the cage before me, but I can only make out a mass of knotted hair. It’s Granger. I almost forgot. They keep her locked up in there like a dog. 

She looks asleep, but one can never been too sure, especially with Granger, whose mouth has a reputation of its own. 

“Magnus Sominus!”

I move on.

The light of my wand hits Potter’s body first. He’s chained up, as always. His eyes remain closed and for the first time in many weeks, I get a good look at him. His body is considerably thinner and pasty from lack of exposure to sunlight. He actually looks rather grey and sickly. 

Oh, who gives a shit? Certainly not me. He can rot here for all I care. 

I move my wand just an inch to the right, and for a moment, I find it hard to breathe. There she lies. Determination, grace, and sheer willpower personified. She’s managed to twist her chained wrists in a way that allows her to sleep on her stomach. Merlin, she looks exquisite passed out like that. 

Father always did say Blood Traitors were a waste of a good bloodline. The vision before me makes that painfully obvious. Despite Ginny Weasley’s unfortunate last name, she clearly has exceptional genes. Her delicate lashes lay against her skin like they were painted there and the freckles along her nose complement the masterpiece that is her face. Her long, voluminous auburn hair lays tucked beneath her cheek like a silken pillow. Unlike Potter, the lack of sunlight and decent food has not diminished her appearance. Her porcelain skin is taut and without blemish, peppered with light freckles that look like cinnamon sprinkles waiting to be licked. Oh, how I’d love to lick her all over. I’m sure her cunt is quite sweet. I’ve tasted it a million times in my dreams.

If only she were awake. I could stare into those beautiful chestnut eyes; they’re always filled with so much passion for me. 

Potter has no idea what he has. Or had, rather. 

I’m going to save this memory and replay it over again in a Pensieve. She may not know who fucked her when she awakes, but I will. I’ll know, and so will Potter. I wonder what he will think of her after I’ve shagged her brains out? Will he be able to even look at her? 

I really should hurry and get on with it. 

I take a big swallow, looking down at her. She sleeps so beautifully. Like a real lady. Her mouth isn’t hanging open like some savage, and there’s no drool there. Her chest barely moves. I have to really stare at her for a considerable amount of time to pick up her breathing. If she ever snores, which I highly doubt, I’m sure she would do so like a princess. 

She moves a little to the right, but doesn’t awake. I’m spellbound. No matter how she shifts her body, the outline of her arse remains perfectly round. Seeing her chained up against the wall, with her bum sticking out so prominently is stirring something in me. 

I think I’m ready now. 

Slow and easy, I bend down to get a closer look at my precious nymph. Her thighs look so creamy and smooth. I have to touch. I reach out to caress one and my cock twitches in appreciation. Her skin is like velvet. If her thigh is this soft, I wonder what her cunt will feel like.

She moves again, and to make sure there is no scuffle, I perform three fast circular wand movements.

“Magnus Sominus!”

Her head lolls to the side against the soft wooden floor. I’m quick to cradle it, running my hands through her soft hair as I do. 

She’s completely knocked out. Asleep and under my control until I end the spell or when she awakes naturally in twelve hours. That will be my choice. Right now, I can do whatever I like. 

There’s an abrupt movement to my left. I grunt as something hard and meaty kicks my hand away. 

I shine the light of my wand to the left. Of course, it’s Potter. His eyes are livid and full of hate. He kicks at me again, but this time, I’m ready. I employ my expert Seeker reflexes and swiftly move to the side just in time and point my wand at his feet.

“Incarcerous!” 

Tight rope binds his legs and swivels around his chains to pull his arms over his head. 

“What the hell are you up to, Malfoy?” he snarls.

I give him my most sinister smile. “As if you don’t know,” I say, running my hand over her bum. 

He growls and twists within his bonds. 

“Stay still, Potter! If you make another move, I swear I’ll wake her up so she can feel every inch of my knob inside of her.”

“You sick ferret! Get away from her!”

“It’s your choice, Potter. She can stay asleep or she can wake up and remember everything I’m about to do to her. Either way, you have to watch.”

 

He looked from side to side in desperation. “I’ll yell… I’ll-I’ll bring Voldemort down here and…”

I laugh. What a daft wanker. “All right, Potter. Go on, yell. Bring them all down here so everyone can have go at her while you watch.”

He shakes his head in denial, staring at Ginny. “Malfoy, please. Please. Just leave her alone. Do what you want to me, but…”

“I don’t want anything from you, you filthy cocksucker. Perhaps I’ll let you suck out my cum after I’m all done. I hear it’s a part of your diet now. Go on, yell…” 

He makes no movement, and I can see the terror on his face. His little mind is working furiously to try and plan something, but really, what can he do. I’ve left him with no choice but to watch. I’m a bloody genius.

“Now, be quiet. One word, I wake her up,” I whisper. In the dim glow of the wand light, his eyes look glassy and lost. As long as they’re open, I don’t care. He has to see everything I’m about to do. 

I give him a smug smirk and return my attention back to her. 

Now the real fun begins.

The strain from her chained wrists stretches over her head, showing off toned arms undoubtedly developed from years of Quidditch. I love her body. It’s so strong and athletic, and yet so feminine. So very fuckable. 

I’ve wanked to the vision of this body writhing under me. I want to feel her strength struggling against mine, until she finally yields and crumbles beneath me. Alas, for now, a sleeping fuck will have to do. 

Under the spell, she remains still, sleeping like a baby. 

I stroke her cheek, and then my hand finds its way down to caress her sweet mouth. It’s half-opened now. I trace my thumb over her lips, imagining that it’s my cock instead. I can feel my arousal. The ache is just a little uncomfortable but it’s the sweet suspension before the fall. I don’t mind drawing it out some.

I hear a strange whining noise coming from Potter’s direction. I smirk and push a little more, wishing she were awake to give suction to my intruding thumb. This is good enough, though. 

“That’s it, Ginny. Suck it. You’re probably really good at that, aren’t you?”

Of course she doesn’t answer me, but she doesn’t have to; I already know. At Hogwarts, she was too popular and dated too many blokes. On top of that, she’s been Potter’s bitch for more than two years. I know she sucks cock.

As Potter grunts in protest, an unexpected flash of anger forces me to narrow my eyes as I stare down at her. Disgust bubbles within my stomach and I feel nausea building. The picture of her surrounded by cocks of all shapes, colours, and sizes is vivid in my mind. I withdraw my thumb. I don’t want her to suck me off. I want something special. Something I’m fairly sure only Potter has ever had: that pretty pussy of hers. 

Her breasts rise and fall ever so slightly with each breath she takes. I slide my hand over her left one and begin to grope, assessing its size. It fits into my hand perfectly. Slipping my hand inside of the rag covering her, I alternate squeezing each of her soft mounds while keeping my eyes on her face. Her nipples are hard. I pinch one. If I’m not mistaken, her brow creases. But then it’s gone. Can she feel this? 

Will she remember this? Impossible. 

Even though I know it’s irrational, I wait for her eyes to open. Suddenly, I feel unnerved and watching her face vexes me. This will not do. It’s killing my erection.

I can hear Potter writhing within his bonds, and I turn my head to give him a sharp warning look. Lifting my wand up to his eyes, the hate I find there is almost searing, just the way I’d hoped it would be. 

I lay her head back down and roll her over so that the back of her head and arse are all I have to see. 

There. Much better. 

I’ll start at the bottom and work my way up. 

“Watch this, Potter.”

His face contorts and his eyes appear to bulging out of their sockets. He must be going nuts inside. I feel invigorated by the thought. Gripping her calf, I begin to slide my hand up her leg, keeping my eyes on her back. The rag cloth she wears rises higher and higher, revealing smooth ivory freckled skin. 

At last, I reach the prize: her beautiful arse. It’s so round and perfect. I squeeze a cheek, enjoying the feeling of my fingers sinking into her flesh. Mine, all mine. I’m entranced; touching her makes me feel so alive and powerful. 

“Where should I start, Potter? Arse or cunt?”

He scowls and balls his fists within his bonds. I can see the strain in his eyes. I grin at him and then give her arse a hard slap. 

Ah, it jiggles perfectly! I must do it again. 

Slap. 

I hear Potter growl deep in his chest. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Slap. Slap. 

Jiggle. 

Nice.

She whimpers and I freeze, gaping at the back of her head while my stomach twists itself into knots. The spell is supposed to hold through anything! There was no mention of her being able to make noises. I sit on my knees, on guard, waiting once more for her to awake. 

But they never do. 

For one brief moment, I wonder just how hard I would have to fuck her in order to break the spell. I almost want to try. I chuckle to myself, my confidence returning. I’m the one who put her under! I’m in control here, and I’ll decide when and how she wakes up! She’s so far under right now, I could twist her sixty different ways and she’d think it a dream. 

I lean in low and smell her. Her cunt smells like musk and… well, cunt. I have to taste it. I bury my face down there and take a lick. It’s fair. Not sweet, but tangy. I could go on licking her, but what would be the point?

Enough with the foreplay; time to shag.

Palming and spanking her arse has really affected me. I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my life, and my cock is stretching my silk bottoms, making them very uncomfortable. I release myself, pulling them down. For a moment, I feel self-conscious. It does feel rather odd knowing Harry Potter is watching me pull out my cock. But reminding myself I’m here to make him pay makes the awkwardness go away. 

I stroke myself lewdly for him to see; he looks sickened. Great. I trace down the cleft of her arse until I reach her warm, soft bush. 

I feel around down there, exploring with my finger along her lips until I find her entrance. I push against her opening. She’s not ready, so I move up to her clit. Her hips move. Just a little. 

Soft caresses, that’s the way to get them nice and wet. Being attractive and wealthy has its advantages and I’m fairly experienced in these matters. Preparation is more about finesse really. Even in sleep, I know what birds like. 

It takes no time at all for her to get slick for me. I slip a finger inside her and find it to be every bit as soft as I had imagined. Oh, Ginny, you little minx, I can’t wait to put my cock in there. I lick my lips, smirking up at Potter.

“Is she nice and tight, Potter? Or have you loosened her up for me? Oh, I forgot—the Boy Who Failed is a pillow biter now.”

He opens his mouth, and I grin, pointing my wand at the back of her head. He bangs his hand against the stocks. Is he crying? 

I try to imagine what retort he would have given if he could speak. He’d probably say something like ‘I’m gonna kill you, Malfoy!’

I snicker. 

“That’s right, Potter. I’m going to fuck her right here in front of you. And you know what? She’s going to love it.”

I add another finger, stretching her as I begin to move them in and out of her. 

She sighs. 

As if I couldn’t get any harder… Enough of this. She’s ready for me.

I grab her thighs and pull her back as far as her chained arms will allow me. Running my cock along the soft skin of her arse is enough to make me shiver. Did I say I would fuck her until dawn? I’m not sure I’ll be able to last a half hour. 

I position myself at her entrance and then push forward, sinking into her completely.

Oh!

Oh, Ginny!

“Mmm,” she moans in her sleep, pushing her arse back as if asking for more. 

I can hardly believe it. It feels so good, and her body is so receptive to me. If more is what she wants, then more is what she’ll get.

“That’s it, you little firecrotch. Take all of this cock.” 

Potter whispers something and then makes a soft desperate sound similar to a small animal caught in a trap. It’s music to my ears. 

My hands find their way to her arse and I squeeze, pushing and pulling her back over my cock. It feels so wonderful; I almost forget Potter is there. I turn my head to have a look at him. His face is anguished. I can feel how upset he is. His weakened magic is sending out faint vibrations that tickle my skin. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to do wordless magic on me. What an arrogant little shit. 

I chuckle. “Keep trying, Golden Boytoy. You can’t do anything but sit there and watch me fuck her, again and again.” 

I pull her hips back hard, fully encasing myself inside of her once more. She turns her head to the side like she’s having an intense dream. I hope she’s dreaming of getting pounded. I hope she has the same dream every night. I hope she never feels the same about him again, and I hope she never knows why. 

But he’ll know, and that’s all that matters to me. 

“You’ll never forget this, will you?” I sneer while delivering another hard thrust to emphasize my point. I almost forget myself as I feel her cunt squeeze me.

He clenches his teeth and growls. 

Somehow that makes being inside of her all the sweeter. “Oh, fuck, Ginny!”

She gasps softly and pushes back again. She’s a real pro, this one. Or maybe not. I wonder if she’s ever had it up the arse? I pry her cheeks open and stick a finger in there. It’s tight. Very tight. I would be the first. I turn and probe deeper. First one finger, and then two. I swear, the deeper my fingers go, the wetter her cunt gets. She’s loving this. 

What a whore. 

My whore. Mine. Potter had his chance, and he mucked it up, gormless git that he is.

With one hand, I slide my wand closer, so I can actually watch my cock disappear inside of her. We fit perfectly. Such a shame.

Merlin, she’s twisting her hips! I swear I felt her do it. If she moves like this in deep sleep, she must be bloody brilliant awake. Perhaps I’ll come back to find out later. 

I’ll probably have to because I’m not going to last for long. But I don’t even care. It doesn’t matter how fast I come in front of Potter. Who the fuck is he, anyway?

“You wish you could be me right now, don’t you, pencil dick?”

He’s scowling at me again. I’d wager he’s dying on the inside. The thought of it enlivens me and I fuck her even harder. The sound of our skin slapping together is quite arousing. Her cunt feels like a mouth, and with every thrust, it sucks me in. If she keeps moving, I don’t know how much longer I can last. 

Who knew Ginny Weasley was such a sweet piece of arse?

“If you keep doing that, love, you’re gonna make me come. Is that what you want, huh? …Oh yeah, I bet you do, don’t you? You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

My bollocks tighten and I know there isn’t much time. I quickly withdraw my cock and pull my fingers out of her arse to position myself at her arsehole. She’s so bloody wet it provides enough lubricant for me to push myself in. She whimpers. Oh, Gods. I love that sound. I push harder, grinding my way into her. It’s fucking tight. Just a few more thrusts and she’ll open up nice and wide for me. 

Ah, yes, that-a-girl. You sweet fucking…

I lose control over my hips. It’s becoming harder and harder to leave her tightness. I just want to stay buried in her and never come out. Oh, but I also need to come! 

Her hips twist once more, and I hear a faint, “Ooh.” 

That’s my undoing. Half out of my mind with ecstasy, I no longer care if I’m overheard from above. I don’t even care that Potter’s there anymore. All I care about is coming. 

A wave of spasms tear through my body as I explode inside of her. 

Outstanding! Her arse seems to think so as well. It’s milking me dry. What a spectacular fuck. The pressure in my bollocks lightens, leaving me feeling depleted and sticky with our combined wetness. 

Great Salazar. That was unbelievable.

I stare down at her. She’s still laying there, eyes closed. Her hair is a bit more tousled, and where we are joined is sticky with come. 

I look up at Potter and shake my head. “You really know how to pick them, Potter. Too bad you only service cock now.”

His bottom lip is quivering. I wonder if he’s going to lose it right here. I wouldn’t mind seeing that. 

Slipping out of her slowly, I feel a brief sense of regret. I really do wish she had been awake, but she would have made it too difficult to enjoy. I pull her rag down and perform a cleansing spell on her and then crawl towards her face. My come-covered cock hangs limp.

I slide it along her sweet warm mouth. “Clean me off,” I whisper.

I hear a croak from Potter’s direction. Ginny makes no motion, but she doesn’t have to. I know she’ll do anything I want and that she likes it, whether she knows it or not. I push it past her lips until my cock hits her teeth. It’s like a nice warm bath to wash the filth away. 

When I pull out, her lips are coated with a nice gob of white sticky come. It’s a lovely picture. But as hot as it is, for my own sake, I probably shouldn’t leave her this way.

The memory of it will have to be enough. 

I put myself away and then lean over and kiss her on the cheek, with the hope that perhaps she’ll have some sort of memory of our special night together. Or, at least, dreams. 

I know I’ll have plenty. This is a night I’ll never forget. Best of all, neither will Potter.

Turning towards the stairs, I remind myself that I have to be just as quiet returning as I was coming down. As relaxed as I feel right now, that should be easy enough.

Oh, yes, I almost forgot. I pause and return to where Potter and Ginny lay. 

“Finite Incantatem.”

She remains asleep. Lovely. 

His bonds disappear; all that are left are the chains on his wrists. I stand, wand at the ready, waiting for Potter to shout and curse. But instead, his eyes are unwavering, focused only on her. Even in the dark, I can see him shaking, his mouth slightly ajar as he looks at her resting form.

“Nothing to say?” I goad.

He can’t even look up at me. Poor sod must be in shock. 

Perfect.

“Sweet dreams, Potter.”


End file.
